


The moon shines brighter

by tsunkiku



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, KPop AU, M/M, Physical Disability, Slow Burn, they sweatin a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-08 15:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14108295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunkiku/pseuds/tsunkiku
Summary: VLD! is the break out boy band of the century! Keith, Lance and Matt are faces on billboards across the universe, and their stardom is only set to grow. But with the world at his feet, why does Keith still feel like there's something missing?With his performance and motivation slipping, good friend and rival artist Allura recommends a new dance instructor who just might have what it takes to reignite Keith's spark.Super indulgent KPOP au where Keith is a pop superstar with a whole lot to lose and Shiro is a troubled dance teacher with a whole lot to give.





	The moon shines brighter

As a general rule, Lance’s voice grated on Keith's temper at the best of times.

“Keith, where the heck d’ya think you're going? Keith, you can't just-”

Twinned with a fresh throb of fury thudding in his ears, right now it was like metal scraping on glass. The tone of indignant anger certainly didn't help.

Keith supposed he ought to have grown used to it, since over the past several weeks, he had endured more than a few brief spells of Lance’s childish venom. A year ago, the petulant rivalry the other proliferated had fuelled them both. They had bonded over it, shared in the vivacity of their own separate determination to succeed. Keith had even flourished, driven by Lance’s jealousy almost as much as the other had, to keep getting better.

A higher note.

A more complex dance.

Another hour in the gym.

More. Further. Perfect.

It had been easy to keep pushing himself that one little step further when it felt like the world was unfolding beneath their feet, yielding up every secret wish he'd ever longed for.

Those first days had been magical, so unbelievable that they barely felt like memories. They were anecdotes that you read in a magazine next to a glossy, perfect grin. Someone else, something else, but not him. First, being scouted at fifteen, then being matched together with two other boys, then the training. Months of gruelling practise now felt as quick as starlight; one day, he'd just been Keith Kogane, a boy from a small town who lived with his father and his pet cat and liked to sing.. and then he was K, lead singer of VLD!, and everyone knew his name and his face and the sound of his voice. He had thought once that it would never stop being bizarre to see his face emblazoned on lunch boxes and pens and beach towels, but then one day he'd woken up and it had just been another facet of his reality. Fame. Money to send to his father. Admiration and praise from every corner of the world that he knew of, and many others he didn't.

And that was enough. Or, it ought to be. They didn't need to know about the old piano his father had learned to fix all on his own just so Keith would be able to practise at home. They didn't need to know the truth that, in the beginning, he'd laid awake and wondered if he really deserved what he'd earned; that maybe someone along the way had made some horrible mistake and put him here on accident. They didn't need to know how badly he missed just being Keith.

But! Those things didn't matter. Adoration was enough. It was selfish to wish for more when he was given the world, wasn't it? More than selfish, it was a disservice to everyone who was out there rooting for him, clamouring at his every success. The love that had been laced into every word of the fan mail people the world over sent him, intimacy embroidered onto paper in ways Keith didn't think he'd earned. He was something to them, something so important and precious that is was beyond his own self. _That_ should be enough, enough for anyone. 

It was enough for Lance, who worked himself to exhaustion just to keep up with standards that Keith found effortless. Lance was talented in his own right, and everyone who met him saw it but he just couldn't stop comparing himself to everyone else, and one day Keith knew he was going to end up hurt. Once, Keith had resolved that he would be push just as hard as Lance did; he owed it to him, for every sweating bead of determination Lance had bled just to keep up.

He couldn't remember when he'd stopped. He couldn't remember when he'd started to flag, and instead of Lance snapping at his heels, he began to be shoved along by Lance’s frustration. His failures irritated Lance more than they did himself.

He couldn't remember when he had started to care so little about that, either, until Lance’s needling being to pierce somewhere a little deeper and more tender than before. A gap in his chest that previously hadn't existed, until suddenly one day it just gaped there, empty and too vast for him to stitch together again. He laid awake at night and felt it gape, settling over him like a second skin. What was missing? What could possibly be missing when he had everything laid at his feet? Hadn't he worked hard enough to get here? Keith began to become as frustrated as Lance.

It was just the season, maybe, Matt suggested; attempting once again to resolve some aimless, silent conflict as they lingered backstage before another show, Keith and Lance as far apart in the room as they could possibly manage. Lots of people languished in the colder months. It was normal. The malady even had a name, apparently, but Matt had never mentioned it, preferring instead to focus all efforts on dragging Keith out of his slump himself. Keith would be better by Spring. It would be fine. They would be fine. If they had made it through training, then they could make it through this.

But a few months was a thousand years in this business, and Keith knew that whatever was ailing him was beginning to leak beyond just their practises.

People were beginning to notice.

God, he didn't want to read what the forums said. What little that did leak through was enough. None of it was unkind, not a lick of it, but somehow that was worse. . The concern and support hurt worse. kept his eyes pinned elsewhere whenever out of the corner of his eye he glanced a tabloid. Not that it did much good, since Lance fastidiously supplied all the details, unprompted, through cutting remarks post-practise or through passive aggressive abandonment of magazines on the coffee table where Keith would discover them. Not with the eagerness he'd offered up any criticisms like he had before, like he'd been laying bait; now it seethed with something more like resentment. Bitter. Stardom was glittering at their fingertips, the dream they'd clutched close since childhood finally bursting into bloom, a thousand devoted fans screaming for their success, and yet..

He could hear that same ire now, venom twisting Lance’s mouth as the door clattered behind them.

Keith drank in a gulp of cold fresh air, watching as it rose in steamy vapour as he exhaled. The little garden atrium was used to host visitors to the label's HQ, but more often than not, it was used simply as a retreat for employees to sneak a sly cigarette in between fielding emails or phone calls or whatever else they did. Breathing in the stale, bitter stink of it was as close as Keith was ever going to get to smoking one, and so he savoured it, that closeness to being normal. He wondered if pretty Dae who worked in HR knew how special her life really was.

Not because Lance flirted with her, not because she was pretty and nice and communicated daily with three men half the women in Seoul would give anything for a mere five minutes with. 

It was because she was free.

Even if she hid the evidence of some of her choices by gratuitous sprays of rose perfume, they were still choices she had the power to make. Keith wasn't sure what would happen if he even took the liberty of putting a cigarette between his lips unlit just to feel what it was like. Would it feel like freedom? Would it feel like relief? Or would it just make him choke?

All thoughts of cigarettes and Dae's small, pale hand cradling them were abruptly short as Lance spoke up, shearing his thoughts in two.

“What the hell was that? Again? You're storming out again?” Keith hated hearing the disbelief woven tightly beneath his anger. It was too dangerously close to pity, and from Lance, his best enemy and best friend in one, he couldn't stomach it. Derogatory comments on web forums, pious concern on fan's instagram accounts, he could handle, but not this.

Keith jutted out his chin to the city below. “So what if I did? That dance is stupid. We've done the same moves a thousand times. If I'm messing it up, it's only because I'm bored of repeating myself,” he waved his hand, using the other to brace his weight as he sat down heavily on a worn bench next to a miserably potted conifer. Poor little thing. He wondered if anyone actually had the job of taking care of it. Maybe that was what Dae claimed she was doing when she came out here.  
  
Lance remained standing, arms folded over his chest as he glared down at him like a disappointed wife. The heat of his gaze nudged Keith into another sigh, brows pinching together as he looked away. Something about Lance’s failure to immediately retort was worse than any stupid insult he usually hurled at him, the silence a damning comment within itself.

He wasn't in the mood for a stand-off, so he shrugged, acting as though speaking first wasn't a notch against his pride as much as Lance's accusations themselves were. “People want something new out of us, you said it yourself. We're wasting our time with this.”

Lance’s derisive snort told him all he needed to know about his limp excuse, how little Lance bought it. Perhaps Lance was the only one who saw through his blustering to the truth that lay beneath, and that was why he wouldn't relent. He knew it was Keith's fault, Keith's problem, Keith's inability, even if he didn't understand the reason.

“Sure. It's because it's ‘ _repetitive_ ’,” Lance sketched out the emphasis with his fingers, drawling his contempt. “Gotcha.”

There was a carefully laid note in Lance's tone that irritated him, an invitation to fight. Keith had half a mind to take him up on it; the muscles in his forearms twitched as he tensed. Why not? Maybe a big fight was what they both needed. All too often was Matt there to intervene, cutting any confrontations woefully short with some awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Lance was easily swayed back into a good mood, at least outwardly, but Keith knew that the frustration had been building in him for a while now, slowly boiling beyond friendly bickering. Matt, for whatever reason, wasn't here to step between them. Had Lance told him to stay behind? Was he as thirsty for a fight as Keith imagined? 

Damn it, he should give it him. Their eyes met, grey against blue, measuring the challenge as Keith's hackles rose. What would happen if he just fucking punched him? As long as there were no cameras, would there be any real retribution? Would he face any punishment that mattered? Even if he was thrown out of the band, would that really be so bad? Losing everything didn't feel like such a blow when everything felt like sparkling dust slipping through his fingers.

Then, all the tension eased out of Lance like a sigh.  
  
“Look, we just...,” Lance carded his fingers through his chestnut hair, the roots still dark with sweat damp on his scalp. He had been working so hard in there, pushing himself to his limit, and Keith had barely been paying attention. Guilt slithered down his throat, forcing him to look away as Lance continued. “We have our next cycle coming up, there’s so much hype for it, a-and our tour afterwards, I’m not saying you aren’t trying, but-”  
  
No, he wasn't saying it, not technically, but what was unsaid hovered there nonetheless. Quite against the will of his temper, Keith felt a surge of fierce affection for his friend, practically his brother after all these years together. Lance might be a pain in his ass, but he and Matt were the only ones who even came close to understanding him. He hated seeing the droop in Lance's shoulders as much as he detested his nagging. Even if he couldn't motivate himself to try hard for the sake of it, surely he could muster up the ability to try harder for Lance's sake. 

“We have to be perfect, Keith. We can’t mess up anymore, even less than we could at the beginning. I know you can do it, so just… let’s work together, right?”  
  
Right.   
  
Even if the thought of it made him feel sick.  
  
Even if the idea of getting out on a stage again stirred nothing in but exhaustion instead of exhilaration, boredom instead of excitement.   
  
Keith looked up to see Lance extending a hand to him, a question awaiting answer. Lance's thin brows were drawn together with such genuine concern that it almost shocked him. Did he really doubt that he would take it? How had things gotten this bad? Or were they all just tired?   
  
“Yeah. I know.” From somewhere, Keith mustered a smile as he seized Lance's hand and used it to lever himself back up to his feet. His skin was still clammy from exertion, sweat freezing in the chilly night air. Keith offered his fingers a squeeze before he let go, hoping that it would be enough to wipe that look off of his face. “Got it.”

Whatever was in the answer that Lance took from the gesture seemed to work, because his face had split into a grin before Keith's hand had even fell back to his side. Seamlessly, Lance raised his hands to form a V over his chest, the symbol encasing his heart.

“VLD?”

Keith huffed out a spit of air through his teeth, turning away before Lance could catch the edge of lips hooking into a smirk. “You know I’m not doing that stupid shit off camera.”   
  
“You do it with Matt!” Spoken with the same superficial hurt as usual, no matter how many times Keith rebuffed him, Lance never failed in sounding equally as disappointed as the first time.  
  
He couldn't help himself from laughing, a soft chuckle sneaking its way out past his lips. “Matt doesn’t give me a hard time about making the D wrong.” This argument was comforting for them both. Harmless, silly normality. They always sank back into this sort of mindless bickering after a fight like sinking into an apologetic embrace. Both of them were too proud to say sorry, after all. It brought back memories that both of them cherished, too, especially now when things were so strained between them. Back in the days when Keith's failure to throw up their band's sign flawlessly on command was the worst thing that Lance could criticise him for. 

A shiver raked its course down Keith's spine, and all at once he was very aware of how ridiculous they were being. Both fresh from a work out in scant clothing, outside at night up a tall building in winter. “It’s cold out here,” Keith rubbed his biceps for emphasis, inclining his head in signal towards the door as he set off towards it. He pushed it open with his palm, stepping back to allow Lance to walk in first. “We gonna finish up?”  
  
Lance waltzed in without so much as the scantest polite acknowledgement that Keith had held the door open for him, ignoring Keith's tutting disapproval as he hurried back into the warmth of heated corridors. Typical. “Already finished, my man. You kinda signed off on it yourself with the whole door-slammy-walkin-out thing.”   
  
Keith let the door clap shut behind him. 

“Yeah. Right.”  
 

* * *

  
Downstairs in the lobby, Keith's first indication that something was wrong came in form of Lance stiffening rigid beside him as the elevator doors slid open.   
  
From across the hall, Matt raised his hand in greeting with a sheepish grin, a miscreant caught in the act. Beside him, Allura half-turned, regarding them with her violet eyes. Her gaze locked onto Keith's and they spent a second in wordless, heated battle with one another.   
  
Allura, gloriously beautiful and talented, was an artist with the same management as their own, but that didn't make her any less a rival. They were constantly compared in the press in terms of talent, vocal range, versatility in their dances. In Keith's opinion, Allura outmatched him on every one, but he appreciated the fact that Allura graciously entertained the rivalry between them nonetheless as a mark of her respect. As usual, even after what would have been a gruelling practise, she appeared without so much of a hair out of place. It must take hours to style her silver hair into that kind of condition. He'd never seen her with more than half an inch of roots growing in; almost to the point where Keith's reasonable explanations ended and he began to wondered if that colour was all natural. 

The stand-off ended as quickly as it had begun as he felt himself roughly shoved aside. 

Lance moved faster than Keith thought possible, skidding from his side to lean with feigned nonchalance against the pillar between Allura and Matt. Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes. When was he going to learn?

“Allura! Hey! How’s it goin’?” Lance flashed what he probably thought was his winning smile as gestured with his thumb towards Matt, quietly simmering behind him. “Must be rough if you’re stuck chatting to this weirdo, but don’t worry Princess, your knight in shining armor is here for the rescue. Does your chariot await, or do you wanna shack up in our car? I can make room for one more.” By dumping he and Matt on the sidewalk, no doubt, even though there was easily enough space for four. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. Poor Matt was too good-natured to ever put up much of a fight about it, and Keith just didn’t care, as much as he enjoyed watching Allura verbally choke-slam Lance at every opportunity.  
  
This time, neither of them had to wait long for the take-down. Keith had sensed it in Allura’s face the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Today, Lance’s ‘princess’ wasn’t in the mood.  
  
In silent, solemn-faced appraisal, Allura looked Lance up and down. For a moment, Lance drank in the attention and let it bolster his smirk, not expecting at all what was going to come next.

“Were you too busy looking at your reflection as you were dressing?,” Allura’s expression didn’t so much as flicker when she spoke. _God damn,_ Keith thought, _she is a stone cold killer_.

Lance's face sputtered like a light losing power. “H-huh..?”  
  
“Your pants are on backwards”

The response was immediate and explosive.   
  
Matt, of course, burst into laughter, real tears filling his eyes as Lance yelped in horror as he looked down at his backward pants, at a loss for what to do. While the chaos raged behind him, Allura turned to speak to Keith as though nothing at all was transpiring, her lips even curling into a smile that softened the ethereal harshness of her face.   
   
“Keith.”  
  
_("Keith! Why didn’t you tell me! My life’s ruined, everything’s ruined!")_  
  
Keith took a second to nod, taken aback by this show of warmth. It wasn't that Allura was usually cold, far from it; it was just that Keith wasn't usually the one that she displayed this kind of familiarity with. Despite her admonishment of Matt and Lance's attempts to woo her, she seemed to thrive in their vibrant energy, get swept up in it. Keith always thought that it was probably because she enjoyed any chance, like him, to just pretend that she was like any other normal girl having fun with her friends. “Allura.”

_("No, its salvagable man, don't worry, you've done way worse")_

“Matt was just telling me about your practise.” Keith held her stare, his gaze narrowing slightly. What was her angle here? He was going to drop kick Matt down four floors later for this. It was just like him to say everything and anything to hold Allura’s attention, yapping on and on without a care that maybe certain things should be kept private.    
  


_ (‘This is just a minor slip up, you can do it! Believe in yourself dude!’)  _ _  
_ _ (‘Yeah!’) _

  
Somehow, he managed to prevent his flash of anger from showing on his face, merely shrugging his bag more comfortably onto his shoulder. “Yeah. It was tough. We’re all pretty beat.” He would reveal nothing, no matter skillfully Allura attempted to pry. It seemed she knew it too, from the spark that glittered in her eyes as her lips twitch to smile wider.    
_  
(‘If you pull down your sweater, no own can even tell! See? Yeah, like that!’) _

  
“We’re all tired this time of year.” Allura didn’t look tired. She looked as if she’d just woken up from a thousand year slumber, perfectly preserved like some kind of ancient and ageless jewel. Did she sweat like a real human being when she practised? Keith couldn’t imagine it.    
__  
(‘You’re right! Phew, that was a close one. Thanks dude, imagine if I’d gone out and the paps had caught me like this!’)   
  
“I thought maybe since we all finished early tonight, we could go find somewhere to eat together,” a manicured hand gestured towards the general direction of the outside. Back before they’d all debuted, they would go out to dine together frequently. It had been easier then, when no one knew their names or their faces, or really cared to know. Those days felt so far away, a memory from another world. God, how he missed it.  
  
He wasn’t sure whether it was some magical intuition on Allura’s part, or just good luck, but there was no way he could refuse such an offer, not even when he was as exhausted mentally and physically as he was. Some junk food and his friends’ carefree laughter felt like just what he needed.   
  
(‘ __No sweat! VLD! I’m always on your side buddy, now until the end! ’)  
  


“You know what,” Keith allowed himself a lop-sided smirk of his own, “that sounds great. Where are you thinking?” 

  
(‘ _...wait, why are you cheering me on...  _ ‘)   
  
They were already moving slowly towards the exit as Allura hummed, pressing a finger against her plush lips as she pretended to consider. She had known where she’d wanted to eat for hours now, he suspected, and had already taken the trouble of arranging everything, knowing that Keith would agree. Well, perhaps she wasn’t that omniscient, but Lance and Matt joining her was a fairly safe bet. Keith was pretty sure the world have to be crumbling into dust at their feet before either of them would refuse the chance to hang out with the shared object of their affection.    
  
(‘ _ It’s your fault this happened in the first place! I had to rush to get dressed because you ran off ahead of us! I’ll never forgive you! I’ll fight you right now, right here, let’s- _ ’)

  
“Lance. Matt.” Keith’s voice cut through their clamour, leaning against the door to push it open to allow Allura to gracefully flutter through and out towards their waiting car. “C’mon, quit arguing, we’re going.”   
  
The small western food joint they found themselves in was just what Keith had envisioned. Different, in that it had been cleared out by their management’s security for their safety, but more or less what he remembered.    
  
A little taste of the normality he cherished, even if only for a little while.    
  
While Lance and Matt went up to order seconds, Allura slid into the seat next to him. For most of the evening, she had been ribboned to both Lance and Matt as they hooted and cavorted to hold her attention. Keith had even been caught up in it, a little, though he’d still found himself staring off into space while the others laughed and talked and boasted about future and past endeavors. Their new album was already recorded, and the release was only a few short months away. If he didn’t get back into the zone in time to record the videos and perfect it all for live tour, then…    
  
“I have a private instructor.” Allura didn’t bother to carefully introduce her words, laying them out on the table. It was a good strategy, taking Keith off guard, and he spent a brief moment hating her for it before he swallowed and nodded.  _ And so what?  _ If she was going to put him through this conversation in the first place, he was going to put her through the ordeal of spelling it out.    
  
Allura sighed sharply, sensing Keith’s intent with his silence, but carried on nonetheless, unperturbed. 

“He’s an old friend. He’s a good person, and discreet, and an amazing teacher. He puts you through the ringer, but he helped me when I started to get sloppy a few months back.”   
  
The admission was enough to force Keith to raise his eyes. Allura, sloppy? Those words didn’t even sound right in the same thought. The fact that she was even admitting out loud to him meant that she was being sincere, risking her pride to encourage him. He glanced down at the business card she’d slid across the table towards him.    
  
_SHIROGANE_  
_private dance and fitness instructor_  
_beginners to advanced_  
  
No. This was humiliating. Had Lance put her up to this? Matt? Somehow that was worse than the idea of Allura simply noticing his performance was slipping on her own.    
  
“Look. I’m fine. I don’t need that,” the motion of shoving the card back across the table was a little more violent than he intended, and Allura gave a start as she flinched backwards. Keith’s stomach boiled with anger and guilt. She was just trying to help, and he was a prideful fool for being too stuck up to accept it, but he didn’t care. Fuck it, he didn’t care about anything. What was the point of coming here tonight, to pretend things were fine, that things could ever feel like, for the briefest moment, how’d they’d been before?    
  
Keith rose to his feet. “I’m tired. I’m going.”   
  
“Keith, listen to me, you’re being unreasonable. I think you just need a change of scene and pace. He is truly a talented teacher, and I know that once you meet him you’ll understand when I say it’ll help you change your perspective, so please, I wish you would just-”   
  
There was that tone again, the same one that Lance’s voice had held earlier. Pity.    
  
Keith turned and started towards the exit without a second look back, not caring whether his voice carried the distance or not. “See ya. Tell those two idiots to not stay out too late.”    
  


* * *

 

The apartment felt emptier than usual.

Keith barely attended it any noticed as he dispensed with his shoes and jacket and trudged to his bedroom. He dumped his bag by the door, and as if on instinct he went straight to his window, unhooking the latch and shoving it open a crack.

He drank in the cold air, breathing it out against his tongue as he tasted the bitterness of the city. Above the canopy of buildings, Keith’s gaze sought out the sky, but Seoul was a golden monster that swallowed the night whole. All Keith could see was the yellow expanse of it’s belly where once they had been stars. It was wonderful, he told himself. He’d dreamed of it, this city, this place, this spot where he stood right at that moment. Keith gritted his teeth.

In a city of ten million, with every one of them knowing his name, his face, his voice, and _loving him_ the most out of all the uncountable thousands of others,  
  
why did he feel so lonely?  
  
In his pocket, Keith felt his phone buzz to life.  
  
Eager for a distraction from his thoughts, Keith turned away from the window as he extracted it, expecting some woeful message from Matt or Lance about him leaving without them. He knew they both understood, but appreciated the fact they played out the charade of normality, even if it was only between the three of him.  
  
But the message wasn’t from them.

 

  
  
_For fuck's sake, Allura._  Who the hell gave her the right to go ahead and make arrangements for him on his behalf? Even his manager informed him before making choices about when and where he was to appear in public. Another message flashed on screen before he had the chance to unlock his screen to angrily hash out a response.  
  


_Just consider it._  
  
As if that was all it took.   
  
Keith sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto his blankets before he collapsed face first onto the bed himself.   
  
_Just consider it._

He picked up his phone to stare at the words again, as if staring at the glow of the text would somehow give him the answer he needed.   
  
_Just consider it._  
  
Well, what else did he have to lose? If he went, and it helped, then all would be well again. He'd gain back whatever he'd lost, or at the very least, he would get back on track and keep Lance and Matt safe in the life that they loved. If nothing changed, then nothing would change. Status quo was something he'd grown used to. The worst case scenario was that he'd waste his time and humiliate himself in Allura's eyes, and he knew that it was worth the risk of weathering both. His band mates would appreciate the effort, either way, and after losing his cool tonight at practise, Keith knew he owed it to them to demonstrate a show of commitment.   
  
Besides, how bad could this teacher really be if Allura herself recommended him? 

Rolling over, Keith curled himself tightly around a pillow he gathered against his chest, breathing out into it's fluffy bulk as he closed his eyes.   
  
Tomorrow was going to be a long day, he could feel it. 

* * *

  
Keith pushed open the doors of the small studio at approximately 9:10am. Lance had taken ages in the shower, as usual, pampering and preening himself heedlessly to Keith's hammering fist. Then the car had been caught in traffic, and Keith had spent the entire journey glancing obsessively at his phone and wondering if this whole thing was even worth it anymore, right up until the moment the vehicle screeched into it's usual parking spot in the employee lot. Then, _of course_ , the elevator was out of service. Keith had muttered the blackest curse he knew as he shouldered open the door to the stairwell, tackling the steps two at a time. It was though the universe was trying to tell him something, repeatedly emphasising that this was a bad idea.   
  
Turn back. Go home. Give up.   
  
It only made Keith grit his teeth and leap three steps instead. _Fuck_ the world if it was going to get in his way.

He was going to this damn practise, he was going to meet this damn teacher, and he was probably going to have a shitty time and accomplish nothing, but fuck, he was going to do it. Every difficulty thrown in his path had only made him more determined.   
  
By the time he made it, he was almost out of breath, hunched over and struggling to manage his lungs into capturing a deep enough breath to steady himself. It took him a moment to look up and see the man who'd turned to look him from across the mirrored room.   
  
The first thing Keith noticed was his face. His jawline was straight and angular, framing smooth lips set in a stern frown. His black eyes were even sterner, as yielding as granite. His hair was a shade of grey darker than his own eyes, shot through at the front with streaks of grey and white. He didn't look old, at least in his face. Was it a fashion statement? It looked too natural for that, maybe it was stress? Keith's eyes travelled downward, noting his broad shoulders on the way, until-  
  
“You’re late.”  
  
His arm.  
  
He only had one arm.  
  
“If you’re late, then we have less time to warm up.”  
  
Keith’s mouth was dry.  
  
“Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> shiro features heavily next chapter, i promise :^)  
> the following chapters will most probably be shorter but i hope you'll stick around to enjoy them nonetheless.  
> please leave me feedback if you liked/disliked. thanks so much.


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